


The Globe of Truth

by Caedmon



Category: Good Omens (TV), Good Omens - Neil Gaiman & Terry Pratchett
Genre: Angst with a Happy Ending, Fairy Tale Curses, Light Angst, Love Confessions, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-12-13
Updated: 2020-12-13
Packaged: 2021-03-11 04:13:40
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,565
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28049037
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Caedmon/pseuds/Caedmon
Summary: Aziraphale is gifted with an enchanted snowglobe that inspired a fairytale. He thinks it’s beautiful, but falls victim to its spell when he reads the incantation with deceit in his heart. Only the truth can set him free...
Relationships: Aziraphale/Crowley (Good Omens)
Comments: 81
Kudos: 221
Collections: Ineffable Holiday 2020, Ineffable Husbands Advent Challenge 2020





	The Globe of Truth

**Author's Note:**

> Hi! This was written for the Ineffable Husbands Advent 2020. My prompt was snow angels, but no one actually makes snow angels in this. An angel in the snow counts, doesn't it?
> 
> This story would not have gotten written without the help of the gals and non-binary pals of the Ineffable Sleepover server, particularly Lurlur, WriteItOtt, and Tarek. Thank you. Another thank you to Rose__Nebula who provided amazing insight, as she always does. Thank you, wifey. 
> 
> The art in the story is by Tarek, and it's lovely, Please leave her some love.
> 
> This story was beta'd, but all the errors are on me. Comments and kudos are love. Thank you for them.

There was a package marked ‘fragile’ sitting on the doorstep of AZ Fell & Co. on this brisk December afternoon. Aziraphale puzzled over it for a moment when he saw it: he rarely got any post to speak of, much less parcels, so he wondered if it could be for one of his neighbors, delivered to him by mistake. That happened occasionally, so he picked it up, intending to return it to whoever was missing it. He glanced at the tag and was taken by surprise to see that it was _his_ name and address written there. ‘AZ Fell, Soho, London.’ There was no return address. 

“How odd,” he said aloud, then glanced at his pocketwatch. He was supposed to meet Crowley in a short while, a date he’d been very much looking forward to, but he was a few minutes early. There would be no harm in taking a moment to step in and see what was in this box, would there? Of course not. And then he could go spend an wonderful afternoon with his… friend. Yes, that was all they were. Brushing that aside and smiling wistfully, he stepped back into the shop and closed the door. 

He took the box into the back room and put it on his desk, pulling out a letter opener to get it open. Inside he found a nest of newspaper and a single folded sheet of parchment. Ever curious, Aziraphale picked up the paper, unfolded it, and read aloud.

 _“Dear Mr. Fell_ ,  
_I’m sure you are familiar with the story of Die Schneekugel der Wahrheit, or the Globe of Truth. I thought you might be appreciative of owning the actual globe that inspired the fable. But be careful! The globe is magical. Good luck!”_

The note was unsigned and Aziraphale flipped it over to see if there were any more, but found nothing but a blank sheet. ‘The Globe of Truth’... Aziraphale had heard of the story - it was one of Grimm’s lesser known tales, he believed - but he couldn’t remember the _details_ of the story. Oh, well. He’d look it up in a little while, perhaps after his lunch with Crowley. 

He reached into the box, pulling out the newspaper, and revealed an old-looking snowglobe. It was a bit larger than most he’d seen, and heavy, with a gilded bottom. Unusually, it didn’t appear to be filled with water, although snow still swirled inside the orb. The scene inside was very pretty, with a rustic cabin and some trees, plus some snow angels in the snow on the ground, completing the picture. Aziraphale found himself charmed by it, and smiled at the globe in his hands. _How lovely_ , he thought. Then he caught a glimpse of the note that had come with it: _Be careful! The globe is magical._ He scoffed to himself at the thought. It was a magical little scene, and certainly very interesting that there was no water and still the snow swirled, but Aziraphale knew better than to believe in magic. “The only _real_ magic is that which angels and demons can do,” he said. “Everything else is just smoke and mirrors. But this is a beautiful little globe. I think it will make a nice addition to the shop.”

He left the box and note on the desk and went to the front, still admiring his prize. It really _was_ lovely. When he arrived at the counter, he flipped it over to see if perhaps it was also a music box. There was no key to wind that would allow it to play music, but there was an inscription. He read aloud, “The man with deceit in his heart should beware, for there is no legacy like honesty.”

Then there was a flash of light and Aziraphale disappeared, leaving only the globe sitting on the counter.

~*~O~*~

Crowley checked his watch again, then trailed his fingers along the rim of his glass of wine. Aziraphale was supposed to meet them here, at the restaurant, almost thirty minutes ago, but had never showed. That was unusual but Crowley wasn’t desperately worried yet - it wasn't uncommon for Aziraphale to get so wrapped up in a book he completely forgot about what he was meant to be doing. He fully expected Aziraphale to come bursting in at any moment, harried and full of excuses about why he’d been late. Crowley sipped his wine and entertained himself by eavesdropping on the table behind him, but after another fifteen minutes, Aziraphale still hadn’t shown up. Crowley pulled out his mobile and dialed Aziraphale’s number, thinking he’d remind him of their - well, not a _date_ , really, Crowley thought with a frown, no matter what he’d like it to be, but an appointment.

The mobile rang and rang in his hand and Aziraphale never picked up. Crowley was starting to become alarmed, but told himself that it was most likely that Aziraphale was on the way. When Aziraphale hadn’t shown up in the next ten minutes, though, Crowley decided enough was enough. He paid the bill with an absent miracle, pulled on his wool peacoat, gloves, and dark red scarf, then set out towards Aziraphale’s shop. The angel had never completely stood him up before, and he was feeling a bit hurt.

But this was fine, he told himself. Just fine. Aziraphale had simply gotten wrapped up in rearranging the shop or something and hadn’t heard the phone. There was no reason to be alarmed, none at all. 

Still, his steps were hurried towards the shop. 

The door was unlocked when he arrived, so he let himself in. “Aziraphale!” he called into the empty shop. “You here?”

There was no answer and Crowley felt his alarm grow. It looked perfectly normal - cluttered, but with everything in its place. The only sound was the ticking of the grandfather clock, and things felt spooky. This time, Crowley wasn’t a fan of ‘spooky.’ He had a quick, vivid flashback to the last time he'd been in the shop without Aziraphale, when the place had burned, and took a deep breath to steady himself. This was nothing like that time. The shop was safe, but not only that, Crowely could _sense_ Aziraphale. Six thousand years of being attuned to the angel had left him with a connection. He _knew_ he was here. He just couldn’t find him.

“Angel?” Crowley called, his eyes darting around. “Where are you?”

There was still no answer, so Crowley pulled off his gloves and thrust them into his pockets, going to look. All the books were where they usually were, nothing seemed out of place. There was no sign of a struggle. In the back room, everything appeared to be in order, too. There was a mug of cocoa that was stone cold on the desk next to an open box that Crowley didn’t care about, but everything else seemed normal. It didn’t calm Crowley’s fears, though. He was starting to panic. 

“Angel, wherever you are, you need to come out. This isn’t funny,” he called, and was met with silence. His heart was pounding and his palms were sweating and he was _afraid._ He couldn't say why, only that he was terrified. Where the hell was Aziraphale?

Crowley came back into the front of the shop, weighing his options. The most important person in his life was missing, and he needed to _do_ something. But he couldn't call for help, because there was no one who _could_ help. Heaven or Hell would laugh at him, and the human police were useless. Besides, Aziraphale was _there._ Crowley could sense him. But where the hell was he?

From the counter, he spotted a flash of movement. A human would have missed it, but thankfully, Crowley was no human. He froze and turned his eyes to the counter, waiting for it to come again. _There_. Just there. But there was nothing but a snowglobe on the counter. Since when did Aziraphale have a snowglobe? Nevermind. He rushed over to inspect it, sure that’s where he’d seen the motion. 

On first inspection, the globe looked like any other, with a pastoral scene and swirling snow inside. _If nobody was shaking the globe, how is it swirling?_ he wondered, but didn’t dwell on it. No time for that. When he got closer, he was shocked to see a tiny Aziraphale standing next to the cabin, waving his arms frantically. It looked like he was shouting, but Crowley couldn't hear him. 

Crowley felt mixed relief and new fear when he saw him. 

“Aziraphale? What the hell are you doing in there?”

Aziraphale started talking animatedly, waving his arms and clearly shouting. Crowley picked up the globe and peered at him. 

“Are you alright?”

The angel started talking again, still waving his arms, very agitated. But even when Crowley held the globe up to his ear, he couldn't hear. 

“Slow down, angel. I can't hear you. Can you hear me?”

Aziraphale gave an exaggerated nod and mouthed ‘yes’.

“How on earth did you get trapped in a snowglobe?” Crowley wondered aloud. 

Aziraphale started talking again, and Crowley shook his head sadly. “I’m sorry, angel. I still can’t hear you.”

The angel deflated a bit, putting his tiny head in his tiny hands. It hurt to see him so defeated. 

“Don’t worry, Aziraphale. I’ll get you out… somehow. The simplest way would be to break the globe. Are you terribly attached to this thing?”

Aziraphale shook his head emphatically. No. 

“Alright. I’m going to try to break it. Hold on to something.”

Aziraphale nodded and went to grab onto a tree, wrapping his arms and legs around it. 

“On the count of three. One, two, _three._ ”

Crowley banged the globe against the counter, but it didn’t break.

“Hang on, angel, I’ll do it harder. On three. One, two, three.”

He banged it again, hard, but still nothing. He tried it again, then again, with enough force to dent the wood of the counter, but nothing happened and the glass orb remained intact. Aziraphale was still clinging to the tree, but let go and came to stand beside the snow angels.

“That didn’t work,” he said unnecessarily. “What else should we try?”

Aziraphale seemed to perk up, as if he’d had an idea, and ran to the edge of the glass. He blew on it to create condensation, then wrote in the steam he’d made. 

_Globe is magic._

“Yeah, I had figured that,” Crowely replied snarkily. 

Aziraphale blew on the glass and wrote again. 

_Need a book. Go to desk._

“Do you want me to take you?”

Aziraphale nodded.

“Alright, let’s go.”

Crowley went to the back room and found Aziraphale’s desk just as it had been a few minutes before. Surprisingly, he saw no book. So he looked at Aziraphale. “Now what?”

_Read the note._

Crowley sat Aziraphale down and picked up the note to read it. “Die Schneekugel der Wahrheit. Is this the book you need? This globe thing?”

Aziraphale nodded yes, then blew on the glass again. 

_Grimm’s Fairy Tales._

“Where is it?”

_Back left corner of the shop._

“Be right back,” Crowley said, then dashed off to find the tome he needed. 

He searched the back left corner of the shop quickly, feeling as if he was racing an invisible clock, and he smiled in relief when he found the fairytales and fables section. His eyes tripped over the titles until he found a few copies of Grimm’s Fairy Tales. He wasn’t sure which one to grab, so he grabbed the one that looked the oldest.

“Is this it?” Crowley asked with an urgent tone when he came back into the back room. When he got close enough to see Aziraphale, the angel was smiling and nodding. Crowley smiled in return, pleased. 

“Alright,” he said. “Time to get you out of there. Come on.” He grabbed the globe and brought it to the couch, setting it in Aziraphale’s usual seat. “Let’s see what we’ve got here.”

Crowley sat down in _his_ usual seat and opened the dusty book, fighting a sneeze. He flipped to the table of contents and scanned them with a finger. “The Globe of Truth… the Globe of Truth… Ah, here it is. Bloody hell, I hope the story isn’t in German, too. I’m rusty.”

He looked to see Aziraphale writing on the glass. 

_You can translate. I know you can._

“I hope you’re right. Now… page 294… here it is. The Globe of Truth. Are you ready?”

Aziraphale nodded.

“Here we go,” Crowley said, and began to read. 

_Once upon a time, there was a young prince. He was the third son and not expected to inherit, so he had a bit more freedom than his older brothers. As a child, he made friends with the daughter of the local witch. They spent many long days together, playing, and she became his best friend. The prince was disturbed by the way people treated his friend. She was shunned and called names, and he thought this treatment was unfair. He knew her to be a kind and just person, but cruelly maligned by the people of his kingdom. He promised her every time the villagers turned on her that if he ever became king, he’d change things to make it so witches were beloved by the people. She always thanked him, and never doubted his word._

_Years passed and the witch came into her power. The prince grew into a man and by a bizarre stroke of fate, his father and brothers died of the same disease, leaving him the king. He was a good king, beloved by his people._

_One day, in the third year of his reign, the witch came to seek audience with her old friend. He greeted her warmly, and they talked for a while. Towards the end of their conversation, she asked him if he remembered the vow he’d made to improve the lots of witches. The king squirmed a little, internally, but assured her he remembered it well and that was his next order of business._

_A couple of years passed, and the king didn’t follow through on his word. So the witch came back to see him and asked again. The king answered her that he was just going to tend to his vow, he’d simply been distracted by foreign relations. He promised to make the plight of the witches his top priority._

_Two more years passed and nothing changed, so the witch went to see him again. Once more, she asked if he had any intention of following through on his promise. Once again, the king assured her that he was going to, he had simply been distracted by the birth of his first son. The witch congratulated him and left._

_But another two years passed, and still no changes had been made. Angry, the witch created an enchanted snow globe and took it to the castle with her. He greeted her as an old friend and they talked together. Towards the end of the day, she asked again about the plight of the witches. Once again, he lied and said that he was willing to make the changes the next day._

_So the witch pulled out the snow globe and presented it to him. He was delighted with the gift and exclaimed over it. She took her leave and the king turned over the globe and read the inscription._

_In an instant, he was trapped inside the globe. Panicked, the guards tried to get him out, but to no avail. They hired wise men and doctors and carpenters, but none were able to free him. Finally, he summoned the witch. She returned, not at all surprised to see him trapped in the globe._

_“Please help me get out,” the king said._

_“You have to get yourself out,” the witch replied._

_“How? All the wise men and doctors and carpenters in the land weren’t able to. How could I possibly get myself out?”_

_“The globe is enchanted so that if you have deceit in your heart when you read the inscription, you'll be trapped inside.”_

_“Forever?”_

_“No, not forever, just until you tell the truth.”_

_The king was quiet for a moment. “I’m sorry,” he said, “I never should have lied. I promise to make it safe and happy for witches in my kingdom, and I mean it this time.”_

_There was a flash of light and suddenly the king was standing beside the witch, the globe resting on the ground. He embraced his old friend and as he’d promised, passed laws immediately that made the lives of witches in his kingdom much more safe and happy. He never lied again and they all lived happily ever after._

Crowley put the book down and looked at Aziraphale. “I don’t understand. So you lied about something?” 

Aziraphale wasn’t looking at him, but nodded. 

“But you’re an angel. What could you possibly have lied about?”

Aziraphale wouldn’t meet his eye, just stood there in the snow, his eyes on the ground, his foot nudging the snow angel there. 

“Angel?”

He heaved a huge sigh, then stepped over and blew on the glass. 

_I can’t tell you._

“What do you mean you can’t tell me?”

_It’s about you_

Something squirmed in Crowley’s insides. “You’ve been lying about _me_?”

Aziraphale nodded, still not meeting his eye. 

Crowley thought back to all the time he’d spent with Aziraphale over the centuries, trying to think of times Aziraphale had lied to him. He couldn’t help a slightly queasy feeling. Aziraphale wouldn’t lie to him about something that _mattered_ , would he?

“Is it because you said we weren’t friends? Because I knew that was a lie, angel, and I wasn’t cross. Is that it?”

Aziraphale fidgeted for a second, then wrote on the glass. _Not exactly_

Crowley was nervous. Clearly this wasn’t something light for Aziraphale. He was trying to figure out what ‘not exactly’ meant when Aziraphale wrote another line. 

_I’ve mainly been lying to myself_

“Well, you need to tell yourself the _truth_ , so you can get out of there.” 

Aziraphale shook his head, looking defeated. _I’m afraid_

“I’m afraid, too, I’m afraid you’ll be stuck in that stupid ball forever. Just tell the truth, angel, and you can be free.” _And I can have you back_ , he thought privately. 

Aziraphale still wouldn’t look at Crowley, and Crowley was panicking quietly, waiting for him to move. He felt like he was going to jump out of his skin. What could be so bad that Aziraphale couldn’t tell him? After everything they’d been through together - millennia as friends and saving humanity side by side. Was Aziraphale secretly repulsed by Crowley? Did he _truly_ think of them as enemies? Crowley’s mind spiraled to worse and worse options, but still Aziraphale said nothing. He would make a little step towards the glass, raising his arm, then hesitate, shaking his head and retreating back into himself, and Crowley’s terror grew.

Finally, Aziraphale sighed, blew on the glass, raised a finger, and wrote. 

_I love you_

Crowley didn’t have time to register that before there was a flash of light, and suddenly Aziraphale was sitting next to him on the couch. He looked sheepish and wouldn’t meet Crowley’s gaze, and Crowley just tried to make sense of what Aziraphale had confessed. 

“So, er, you’re out,” he said into the silence. 

“I am,” Aziraphale agreed, still not looking up. “And now you know my secret.”

“Well, I mean, I already knew, really. You’re an angel. You’re made to love all Her creatures,” Crowley said, unwilling to get his hopes up.

Aziraphale shook his head, his face pinched. “Not like that, dear.” He fixed his gaze on Crowley’s face and looked anguished. “I’m _in_ love with you.”

Corwley felt like all the air had been punched out of his lungs and he sat back in his seat a little. “Oh.”

Aziraphale nodded, looking miserable and repeated, “Oh.”

His mind spun and he tried to make sense of what Aziraphale had said. It was impossible to believe, but it had to be true. Revealing that he’d loved Crowley had set him free from the witch’s enchanted ball. Crowley felt all kinds of things in that moment, but the thing he felt most was bright, shining _joy_ , and he broke into a smile. 

“Angel, I love you, too.”

Aziraphale shook his head sadly. “Oh, stop.”

“No, really. I do.”

“You don’t have to pity me.”

“I don’t pity you, Aziraphale. I’m in love with you. Have been since Mesopotamia.”

Aziraphale sniffed and looked at him. “You are?”

Crowley nodded, smiling. “I am.”

A small smile appeared on Aziraphale’s face. “You’re not joking?”

“Here, I’ll prove it.” Crowley picked up the globe, flipped it over, and read the inscription. Nothing happened. 

Aziraphale was beaming now. “You love me.”

“I love you more than anything, angel. I’m shocked you didn’t know.”

“I didn’t know. I always felt love when we were together, but I assumed it was my own love I was sensing.”

“Well, it might have been, but it was also my love.”

“You love me,” Aziraphale repeated. 

Crowley smiled in response. “I do. And if it’s all the same to you, I’d very much like to kiss you.”

“As long as you promise to never stop kissing me.”

“Angel, you have my word.”

**Author's Note:**

> Earlier this month, there were issues stemming from the Facebook group this event originated in. A number of people, myself included, were treated badly on a specific post by the organizer of this event and her friends. This treatment extended to the Discord server associated with the group, however in a different form, to different people. 
> 
> Some who were involved with the event weren’t notified they were accepted, then ended up looking like they had done a No Show, while the organizer stated that they were aware it was a risk that people wouldn’t see it, but that it wasn’t a big deal. This information, that the writer wasn’t aware they were in the event, wasn’t shared widely, which means that their reputation as a writer, or just as being reliable, could have suffered. Others were complained about that they didn’t post, only to find out that due to time zones, it wasn’t even their day yet, with no apologies for posting that fill-in writers were needed to replace them, despite their having done nothing wrong. There has been zero communication from the organizer of the event, and people were essentially left to fend for themselves. This is not even taking into consideration the problematic post and comments from the organizer that hurt mine and other's feelings. 
> 
> Due to how many people were treated, the decision was made to leave the group and the server, but to do the story I'd obligated myself to do, in order to not leave those unaware, or uninvolved, in the lurch and the potential recipient of future bad treatment or demands of their time. I hope this note serves to distance myself from the organizer of this event. However, I will not be removing my fic from the event collection, out of respect and care for the other writers, the majority of whom are wonderful individuals who are simply caught in crossfire. If the fic is removed, it will have been done by the owner of the collection, for reasons which you can likely discern.
> 
> In addition, as tempted as I was to half-ass my fic, I take my reputation as a writer very seriously. It would have been unconscionable to subject my fellow participants to that level of pettiness, not to mention the readers who enjoy my work. So, be assured that despite any other issues, I have given this story the same effort as I always do.


End file.
